


Baby, Baby, Black and Blue

by der_tanzer



Series: Protective Custody [4]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray goes looking for something and gets both less and more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, Baby, Black and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for violence and fears of bad things that didn't actually happen.  
> The title is borrowed from Edie Brickell's lovely Black &amp; Blue, which I think really captures the mood of the series up to now.  
> 

Murray let another week go by before he was reduced to prowling the streets again. This time he had hopes of finding Quinlan, knowing it had been a coincidence the first time but believing that lightning could strike twice. He wandered up and down the main drag, went past the park without actually going in, and then found himself turning toward Quinlan's house. He had done so much staring out the window when Ted brought him here before, it was easy to find. But there was no joy there. Both cars were in the driveway, his unmarked Crown Vic and his personal Granada, and the lights were off inside. It was some reassurance that he was home, but Murray wondered if he was alone. Maybe it was a different skinny geek every night at Casa de Quinlan. Or maybe he had real men most of the time and only settled for the skinny, geeky ones when there was nothing better in the offing.

He stood there for a few minutes and then went back to the park. Surely there would be someone to appreciate him.

***

Nick was the first one up in the morning. It was his turn to make breakfast and he was putting it on the table when Cody came in.

"No Murray?"

"I was just going to get him," Nick said. "Probably stayed up too late working again."

"Yeah, poor guy. Imagine, having a thing for Quinlan. That's gotta be the most thankless kind of unrequited love."

"I can't imagine having a thing for anyone but you," Nick grinned. "Eat your eggs. I'll go get Murray." He went to the forward stateroom and was back a minute later. "He's not there."

"What?"

"Murray. He's not here and his bed doesn't look slept in."

"Shit, really?" Cody exclaimed. "Well, where is he?"

"That's what I'm wondering. Do you think he might be with Quinlan?"

"I don't know, Nick. They haven't seen each other since the trial, have they? I mean, if he did go over there, would Ted let him in?"

"I don't know. Look, we better find out. It's after eight. If he was just getting laid, he'd be home by now, right?"

Cody nodded, laying down his fork. "So where do we start?"

"I'm calling Quinlan. Even if he hasn't seen Murray, he might know something."

"You think?" Cody asked doubtfully.

"At this point, I think the guy who spent a week in bed with him knows more about his private life than we do," Nick said dryly. "Anyway, he's a cop. If anything's happened, he might already know." He went up to the salon to make the call and Cody followed.

"But wouldn't he have called us if he knew Murray was in trouble?"

"With Quinlan, who knows?" Nick dialed the police station and asked for the lieutenant. They were connected at once, and the conversation was short and to the point. Quinlan put him on hold for a moment, then came back and reported that a skinny, dark haired John Doe was admitted to the hospital at two in the morning.

"We'll meet you there," Nick said and hung up.

"Meet him where?" Cody asked, his heart sinking.

"King Harbor General. He says they got a guy matching Murray's description last night."

"Matching his description?"

"He didn't have any ID and he's been in and out of consciousness. They haven't been able to get his name. Come on, we gotta go."

Cody grabbed his jacket and beat Nick to the car.

"It can't be Murray," Cody said when they were halfway there. "I mean, it can't be. He must have spent the night with a friend."

"Without telling us? No way. He probably went for a walk and fell over a curb or something."

"Does he do that a lot? Go for walks in the dead of night?"

"Cody, man, I don't know what he does anymore."

Quinlan was already in the room when they got there, confirming Murray's identity with the doctor and looking at the admittance records for clues as to what had happened to him. Nick and Cody left that to him and went to the bed where their friend lay, battered and bandaged, but undoubtedly Murray. He seemed to be sleeping, his eyes swollen with bruises but not so badly that he wouldn't be able to open them, and Nick picked up his hand, softly calling his name. After a moment, the long lashes fluttered and Murray looked around.

"Nick? Cody?" he whispered. "What's going on?"

"We were gonna ask you that, buddy. Nick was putting breakfast on the table and you weren't there. What happened last night? Where did you go?"

"I—I went for a walk. I was looking for—" He stopped, confused, and closed his eyes.

"What were you looking for?" Nick asked, squeezing his hand. Murray didn't respond but they knew he was still listening. "Come on, Murray. What were you looking for?"

Quinlan came over and stood on the other side of the bed. He touched Murray's arm and the swollen eyes opened again.

"That's a good question, Bozinsky. What _were_ you looking for? And did you find it? Is that what happened to you?"

"I—I was looking for—someone."

"You were looking for someone like who? Someone to fuck?"

He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Jesus, Bozinsky. You went back to the park, didn't you?"

"What's this all about?" Nick demanded. "What park?"

"The park on Fourth, where the faggots cruise. Christ on a crutch, Bozinsky. If you needed it so bad, why didn't you just come to me?"

There was a sudden silence, as if everyone had just stopped breathing, and Murray opened his eyes again.

"I went to your house," he whispered. "The lights were off so I left. You never talk to me, anyway. You hate me. I don't know why you want to fuck someone you hate."

"Murray, what is this?" Nick asked, his voice suddenly pleading.

"You two should wait outside," Quinlan said. "I need to get his statement so we can start tracking down whoever did this."

"No, let us stay," Cody said almost desperately, keeping his eyes fixed on Murray's. "He just woke up; he needs us."

"No, he's right," Murray sighed. "Just wait in the hall, okay?"

"Murray, no," Nick said, trying to regain his position by giving orders again. "Whatever's wrong with you, he's part of it. We're not gonna leave you alone with him."

"It's okay, guys. It's police business. If he wants you to go, go. Just for a minute."

Nick and Cody exchanged a look and then turned to Quinlan. He jerked his head toward the door and they went, too stunned and confused to argue further. The whole thing had taken on a decidedly dreamlike quality and it was getting hard to believe that anything they did or said would matter in the real world.

The doctor came over and delayed the discussion just a little longer, looking at Murray's split lip and black eyes, pulling back the blankets to probe his bruised ribs. Quinlan cataloged the injuries but didn't ask a lot of questions. He could see they were all caused by bare hands, no weapons and no organization. A spur of the moment attack on a convenient target, just as he expected. The only thing left to be determined was if Murray knew the guy's name.

As soon as the doctor was gone, he asked.

"No. I went to the park, like I said, and there were a bunch of guys hanging around. I thought one of them might be interested in me, so I went over and said hi. They were really nice, really friendly, and one of them, he—he offered to—you know—"

"Blow you in the bushes?"

"Yeah, something like that," he whispered. "This is all going to be public record, isn't it?"

"Let's see how the story comes out. What happened next? Did he do you?"

"No. He took off my glasses and knocked me down. One of the other guys came over and they beat the hell out of me. I think they took my wallet, too. That's all I know. I woke up a couple times after they were gone, but I was hurting too bad to walk away. The next thing I knew, I was here."

"But they didn't fuck you?"

"No," he said simply, holding Quinlan's gaze.

"Would you tell me if they did?"

"I don't know why I should. I wouldn't admit it in court if you caught them, and you're not my friend, so you aren't going to comfort me."

The muscles around Ted's eyes twitched, but when he replied, his voice was steady.

"So how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"What do you care?"

"It's my job, Bozinsky. I need the truth."

"I gave it to you, so far as I know. Remember, I was unconscious most of the time. But it doesn't feel like it, and if they were any rougher than you usually are, the doctor would probably have noticed. Happy?"

Quinlan pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down.

"Can you tell me what they looked like? Any of them?"

"I don't know. It was dark and I didn't have my glasses. They were both white men. One was shorter than me, about your height, and one was taller. The tall one was big. Heavy, like Nick. The short one was skinny, like me. And I think he was blond. The tall one had darker hair, but I couldn't say if it was brown or black. That's all I know. I couldn't see any more."

"All right, that's enough for now."

"You're not going to get them, are you?"

"I'll do the best I can, but no. Probably not. Damn it, kid, why didn't you listen to me? I told you to stay out of those places, didn't I?"

"I was lonely, all right?" he snapped, and then all the energy seemed to go out of him. "I'm lonely all the time. I can't sleep and the boat is so quiet at night—I can't wake up the guys and they don't want to be bothered, anyway. So I go out walking until I get tired enough to sleep. Last week, I was thinking of you and I found you. I guess I thought that might happen again."

"So why didn't you just come to me?" he asked gently, sounding a bit like a friend for the first time.

"I told you, I went over there but the lights were off. I figured you were asleep."

"So you went out and nearly got yourself killed instead? Shit, Bozinsky. They give the death penalty for waking people up where you come from?"

"You're not my friend. You said so yourself. Why would you get up in the middle of the night for me? Especially if you weren't alone."

"I'm always alone, you fool."

Murray looked at him in surprise for a moment and then laughed.

"You're settling, Lieutenant. You could do a lot better. Maybe even someone you could call by name."

"Bozinsky's your name, isn't it?"

He laughed again, with real humor this time, and then asked, "Why are you so concerned with who I find when I go out at night?"

"Why? Because I don't like to share, genius."

"Share what? I didn't know I belonged to anyone."

"You don't. But you could if you wanted to stay home at night and not go looking for trouble in places you don't belong."

"If you feel that way, Ted, why didn't you say so? Why did you bring me home for the trial and then just disappear? God, I felt so _used_. How could you do that to someone you liked even a little?"

"Habit," he shrugged, but that wasn't the whole truth. And, looking at Murray's battered face, knowing that it was mostly his fault this had happened, he realized the kid deserved the truth. "Ever since my wife left, since I been chasing men full time, I been gettin' dumped and I'm tired of it. I—I kinda like you, Murray. That's the only reason I volunteered for the protection gig. I wanted you, and I figured if you didn't have any better offer in front of you, you'd take me up on it. But I'd be damned if I'd give you a chance to dump me."

"So you dumped me first. Nice."

"Can you blame me? What in God's name would a thirty year old genius like you want with an ignorant old cop?"

"You mean besides the glaringly obvious?" Murray sighed and this time it was Quinlan who laughed.

"Is that enough, kid? You just want someone to screw around with when you're lonely or bored?"

"If that's all I can have, it'll have to be."

"You already know I don't like to share."

"Neither do I," Murray said quietly. He wondered if this was going to be the first exclusive fuck-buddy relationship in history, and that led to wondering if it might wind up being a real relationship at some point. But that was a consideration for another day.

"You look tired," Quinlan said suddenly. "I'll send your friends in and get out of the way. If there's any news on those guys, I'll let you know."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. And even if you don't find them, you should—uh—call me sometime."

"Don't worry, I will." He stood up and looked around rather uncomfortably before bending down kiss Murray on the forehead. Murray sighed and Quinlan kissed his bruised mouth tenderly, then turned and left without a word.

The door didn't close behind him before Nick and Cody came in. They both looked angry, frightened and confused, and he tried to smile as they sat down by the bed.

"Murray, what the hell happened last night?" Nick asked in greeting.

"I went for a walk and got mugged, like you always said I would. I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to worry you."

"That's fine," Cody said gently, "but what about the rest of it? You were cruising for guys? And what's this thing with Quinlan? I thought that ended when you came back for the trial."

"It did," he said, choosing to ignore the first part. "But we—uh—got together one night last week. I was out for a walk and ran into him wrapping up a crime scene. Ironically, it was over at the park, when Jason Hughes got beaten to death. Tony Fishman's still in a coma and I'm so stupid, I didn't even think about that when I went out last night."

"Jeez, Murray, what _were_ you thinking about?" Cody asked.

"Ted," he confessed, ashamed not of the man but of letting himself be led by his dick into such a dangerous situation. "I guess I thought if I lucked into it once, I would again."

"Wait, go back," Nick said. "What happened last week? How come we didn't know about that?"

"You were still asleep when I got home. I spent most of the night with him and you just never noticed I was gone."

"Shit," Nick sighed. "Buddy, I'm sorry."

"Forget it, it's no big deal. I just needed to get laid and he was there. Last night I was hoping he'd be there again and he wasn't."

"So you were looking for some random person to screw in the park?" Nick asked, suddenly not so sympathetic.

"Kind of. Come on, before you two got together, I bet you were getting laid all over the place."

"Yeah, but we never got mugged. Did we, Cody?"

"I didn't."

"Right. You guys are bigger and tougher than me so you can have sex. That's fair. And it's none of your business who I sleep with anyway. I don't belong to you."

"Well, the thing is," Cody said slowly, "we kind of got used to thinking you did. I mean, we've always tried to look out for you, and now we're finding out that you're this guy who goes trolling in public parks and has sex with a man we all hate."

"Maybe you hate him," Murray said tiredly. "I think he's okay. And he's great in bed."

"Jeez, I didn't need to know that," Cody groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Yeah, that's too much, Boz."

"Oh, like I haven't had to listen to you two ever since I moved in," he said sharply. "It's not like we're doing it in the next room."

"So you're still doing it?" Nick asked cautiously.

"I think so, yes. Look, I like him. I mean—no, I like him. When we're alone together, he's different. It's not like what you see."

"What exactly happened out there in the woods? Did he bring you flowers? Sing you love songs?"

"We played cards and read. It was casual, like being around you guys. Only I got to be the one having sex for a change. I thought it would continue when we came home. Or I hoped it would. But I didn't say so, and he—I think he was afraid to say that he wanted that, too."

"So, what, you guys are dating now?"

"Not really. We're just going to—get together once in a while. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Nick repeated. "Murray, is this who you want to be? This park-cruising, casual sex guy?"

"I'm not doing that anymore. We're going to try to have a—a casual exclusive thing."

"Casual exclusive?" Suddenly it seemed like they were repeating everything he said.

"Yeah. He says he wants to screw me and he doesn't like to share. But I don't think we'll be going on dates or anything. Look, this is what I want. What's it to you, anyway?"

"We're your friends," Cody said, as if it should be obvious. "We don't want to see you get hurt."

"Well, you're doing a great job. You noticed I was gone at breakfast this morning? I went out at midnight and didn't come home, and you noticed at what, eight? Eight-thirty? And how come Ted got here ahead of you?"

"The police station is closer to the hospital," Nick said lamely.

"Right. Guys, just let me do this my own way. I don't get in the middle of your relationship, at least not any more than I have to, and I don't need you in the middle of mine."

"Yeah, but you don't get called to the hospital because one of us got rolled trying to pick up a stranger," Cody said angrily.

"So what do you want me to do? Go back to being celibate? Chase hot girls who just want my money and dump me when a guy who looks like _you_ comes along?"

"But you don't want this, do you? You want a relationship with someone who loves you, right?" Nick asked.

"Not everyone's as lucky as you. And he might fall in love with me. Or I might meet someone else. But if I'm sleeping with him, I won't be in the park at night, at least."

"He's got a point, Nick."

"You're not helping, Cody."

"Yes, he is. Thank you for being supportive, Cody. You're a good friend."

"Sure, he caves and he's a good friend. I'm trying to look out for you and that makes me the bad guy."

"You're not the bad guy, Nick," Murray sighed. "I love you. I love you both, but I need this, too. And right now I need some rest. Please, my head's killing me."

"When can you come home?" Nick asked grudgingly. "You _do_ want to come home, don't you?"

"The doctor said in a couple hours. He wants to make sure my concussion isn't too bad."

"Do you want us to stay?" Cody asked. "Because we'd be glad to."

"No, I'm okay. You should go home. Finish your breakfast or something. I'll call when I'm ready to go."

"Murray, are you sure? I don't think you ought to be alone right now," Nick said, his tone gentle and cajoling. But Murray was tired of being cajoled.

"No, I shouldn't have been alone last night. I'm fine now. Just go home and let me sleep."

Nick and Cody exchanged another look and rose in unison. They touched his shoulders lightly, squeezed his hands and said goodbye. Murray hadn't been completely sure they'd leave and tried to sort out his feelings when they did. On the one hand, he was glad they were able to listen to him once in a while. But on the other, it seemed like they only listened when he was giving them a chance to get away. If they'd said they wanted to leave, could he have made them stay? Another unsolved mystery.

In the lobby, they saw Quinlan at a payphone, on the verge of shouting, gesturing wildly as if the person he was almost-shouting at could see him. He looked up as they passed and hung up the phone, cutting himself off in mid-sentence.

"Where do you two think you're going?"

"We thought we'd go pick up a couple girls and hit the beach," Nick said mildly.

"What he means is that Murray told us to go home," Cody clarified. "He wanted to be alone so he could get some sleep."

"And you always listen when he's saying what you want to hear, don't you?"

"No, we wanted to stay," Nick snapped. It was just close enough to the truth to make him defensive and Quinlan saw it.

"Then why aren't you?"

"Because he wants to be alone," Cody said, restraining Nick with a hand on his arm. "Besides, it'll give us a chance to fix things up for him at home. We need to stop at the grocery store, too, and make sure we've got stuff he'll eat. He gets real picky when he doesn't feel good."

Quinlan half-smiled and shook his head. "You got an answer for everything, don't you, hotshot? It's none of my business anyway. Go on then, get out of here."

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Nick said, keeping himself under control now. "Aren't you supposed to be out looking for those guys?"

"We won't find 'em. Not unless they get caught doing it again, or they try to use his credit card or something. There's nothing to go on. Only thing we can really do is step up patrols at the park, but the fags'll just go somewhere else and it'll start over there."

"The fags, huh?" Nick repeated.

"You gonna pick on my choice of words, Ryder? Or are you gonna get the point and try to help your friend?"

"Don't you lecture me about Murray. He's been my friend for a long time and I'm a lot closer to him than you'll ever be."

"Is that so?" Quinlan said with a smirk that made Nick both blush and want to hit him.

"I _know_ him. I'm his best friend. What are _you_, huh? Answer me that, Ted. What _are_ you?"

"I'm the one he wants to keep him warm at night. And I think there's a better chance of me becoming his best friend than there is of you ever being _that_."

This time Nick swung on him and even Cody couldn't stop it. But Quinlan ducked the punch and stepped aside without retaliating.

"You want to do this, Ryder, let's take it outside. But I don't think you do."

"He's right, Nick. You don't. Come on, we have to take care of Murray now. You can hit Quinlan later, when Murray's tired of him."

"That shouldn't take too long," Nick scoffed. "Just a couple of weeks, don't you think, Ted? I mean, how much time is a genius like him really going to waste on _you_?"

Whether Nick knew to aim for that spot or he just got lucky, Quinlan would never know. But either way, it ended the argument and sent him out the door, when he had been intending to return to Murray's room as soon as they were gone.

Neither of them saw him sitting in his car when they left. They were still talking about how to help Murray find new friends and a better date.

***

Two hours turned to three and then four, and Murray wasn't released until late afternoon. His headache wasn't improving, but it wasn't any worse and he was getting edgy, lying there alone, feeling like everyone knew what had happened and was talking about him. After he proved he wasn't sick by eating a typically unpleasant meal of hospital meatloaf and potatoes without vomiting, they let him get dressed and call for a ride home. He wanted to call Quinlan and called Nick instead. In spite of the warm kiss that had so soothed his wounded feelings this morning, he didn't really know if Ted would come, and he didn't feel like finding out this way. Besides, his friends could bring his spare glasses.

As soon as they got back to the boat, Murray went to his room and stripped off the torn and dirty clothes he'd been wearing last night. The fact that he still had them was a testament to how little effort would go into finding his attackers. They should have gone into evidence, but he didn't care. Murray would like it just fine if he never had to tell this story again. He put on his robe and started toward the head for a shower, politely declining Nick's offer to feed him again.

"Are you sure you're okay, Boz?" Cody asked, touching his back lightly as he passed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just—I need a shower, that's all."

"Hey, Murray, I'm sorry," Nick said. "About the whole thing with Quinlan, I mean. We didn't know you actually liked him, and we don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know that, Nick. It's just—it's my business, you know? And he—he's not going to hurt me. I'm not in love with him."

"That's kind of a relief," Cody said, trying to smile. "But do you really want to sleep with someone you don't care about? That doesn't seem like you."

"I said I wasn't in love. I never said I didn't care. Look, guys, can this wait? I—I really need a shower and then I want to go to bed. If you want to lecture me on my lifestyle, surely it can wait until tomorrow."

"No one wants to lecture you, Murray. Go have your shower and we'll bring you some supper, okay?"

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry, Nick."

"Maybe not now, but you will be later."

A brief anger flared in his breast and he forced it down. They were always telling him what he wanted, what he needed, what he really felt. But somehow they missed the fact that he needed physical affection just as much as they did. They apparently thought that the occasional pat on the back or an offered hand when boarding the boat was sufficient. It was just one of the many things they didn't know about him, and didn't seem to want to find out.

Then Cody was pulling him into a one-armed hug and he was flooded with guilt. It wasn't their fault that they couldn't read his mind or see into his soul. He managed to smile and return the hug, leaving them looking relieved as he escaped to the head. There was no real reason for relief, but it was all he could give them right now.

They were both in the galley when Murray passed through again, still drying his hair. Nick was making soup and grilled cheese, one of Murray's favorites, but he declined again, saying he still wasn't hungry. This time they let him go without a fuss and Murray was a little disappointed. But he realized that if he couldn't figure out how he felt, he couldn't expect his friends to understand. Probably it would all seem better after a good night's sleep. So thinking, he put on his pajamas and got into bed.

The only problem was that it was five in the evening. Even if he went to sleep now, he'd be awake again at three a.m. He picked up a book and stared at it blankly, waiting for it to put him to sleep. If he woke at three, he'd just get up and go to work.

Footsteps overhead caught his attention for a moment, but he knew it couldn't concern him. Nick and Cody's friends came to the boat. His did not. At least not without specific invitations. He closed his eyes and dragged a pillow over his head to block out the sound of voices. They sounded low and angry, probably an unhappy client and nothing he'd want to be involved in anyway.

But it was actually Quinlan, tired and in no mood to be put off after a long day's work.

"It's police business, chucklehead," he said to Nick. "I don't have to explain myself to you. Now either you get Bozinsky up here, or let me go to him."

"Look, Lieutenant, there's no need to get mad," Cody said, trying to ease the situation without giving in. "All Nick meant was that Murray's already gone to bed. You saw him this morning. He's not well and he needs his rest. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow, can't it?"

"No," he said shortly. "Think I came all the way out here because I wanted to?"

"I don't know," Nick shrugged. "I don't try to guess why you do the things you do."

"Good. You mind you business and I'll mind mine. And right now my business is with Bozinsky, so go get him or get out of the way."

"Don't you need a warrant to come in here and push us around?"

"You invited me in, Ryder. Besides, I ain't here to search for anything and I don't need a warrant to talk."

"Nick, why don't you just go see if Murray's awake? If it's something to do with the case, he'll probably want to hear it."

Nick was shaking his head, but he still went below and tapped on Murray's door. There was no answer, so he opened it a crack and saw Murray peeking out from under his pillow.

"What is it?" he asked, reaching for his glasses.

"Quinlan's here. He wants to see you. Says it's police business."

"Oh. I guess I should get up, then. Do you think I need to get dressed?"

"Well, not to be rude or anything, Murray, but I think he's seen you in less. Do you want to come up to the salon, or should I send him down here?"

Murray looked around his cabin, much less cluttered since the last time Quinlan was there, since he hadn't replaced all of his equipment yet. It was his private space, a shrine to his almost unbearable geekiness, and he hated to expose it to ridicule or misunderstanding. But he also hated the idea of getting out of bed. And Nick was right. His pajamas weren't going to shock anyone.

"I think I want to see him alone. It's probably not important, anyway. There's no sense in bothering you guys with it."

He fixed his pillows and lay back, careful of his bruised ribs and still sore shoulder. Nick arranged his hair for him, brushing it back from his forehead and barely managing not to kiss him.

"I'll go get him. And if you want him gone, just yell, okay? We'll be listening."

"Eavesdropping, Nick?"

"No, but we'll hear you if you call, and we'll get rid of him whether he wants to go or not."

"Cody wants to knock him overboard again, doesn't he?" Murray asked with a small smile.

"Probably. But it's my turn." Nick gave him a wink and went up to the salon where Cody and Quinlan were facing each other in uneasy silence. "He says he'll see you. But don't stay too long, okay? He needs to get some sleep."

"It'll take as long as it takes," he shrugged. "But the longer you keep me standing here, the longer I'm gonna _be_ here."

"Well, we can't have that," Nick said, stepping aside. Quinlan went down the stairs and they heard Murray's door open and close.

"Did you catch them?" Murray asked right off, thinking that was the only thing that could bring the lieutenant all the way to his cabin on the Riptide on a Friday evening.

"Not yet. I told you, kid, that's probably not gonna happen."

"Yeah, but I can't help hoping." He picked uncomfortably at his blanket and then turned his soft, disappointed eyes on Ted. "So why did you come? Nick said it was police business."

"Oh, right. Yeah, the uniforms were clearing up the crime scene and they found your wallet. Thought you'd want to have it back." He pulled the worn leather wallet from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the bed. "If you had any money, that's gone, but it looks like they left the rest of your crap."

"I had sixteen dollars," Murray said, thumbing through it to see if the rest of his things were there. Driver's license, detective's license, Visa card, library card, Smithsonian Museum card, Baba's graduation picture, the photo of Nick and Cody leaning out of _Mimi_'s cargo bay—a few other things of less importance, left to prove that he had been robbed but not totally violated. Somehow the idea of those men having Baba's picture had been almost as bad as the idea of being raped. He touched one swollen eye lightly and considered himself lucky on all counts.

"So—uh—how're you doing?" Quinlan asked, pulling the desk chair closer to the cot and sitting down as if he meant to stay.

"I—yeah, I'm—okay. I think. I've still got a terrible headache, but it should be better tomorrow."

"Did they give you anything for it at the hospital?"

"Tylenol. Nothing good," he smiled. "You know, because of the concussion. The guys are supposed to keep an eye on me and make sure I don't die in my sleep or anything."

"They gonna have time for that?"

"If they want me to keep doing their taxes, they'll make time." He tried to turn on his left side to face the other man better, but his shoulder wouldn't permit it. It had been healing so well, and then he took that beating. Got off lucky, he reminded himself, and settled down on his back again.

"Well, they better. You don't look too good."

"I—I think they kicked me when I was down. The—the muggers, you know. Not Nick or Cody. Kind of messed up my shoulder."

"Oh. Did the doctor look at it?"

"Oh, yes, sure. Of course. He said I needed physical therapy but it would be okay. It's a lot better since—well, since the last time you saw it."

"Yeah? Would you let me see it again? Just to satisfy my curiosity, if you don't mind."

"No, I—I don't mind," he said shyly, and began unbuttoning his pajama top. He wasn't sure what Quinlan could do, or what he was hoping to achieve, but Murray had a strong tendency to obey.

Quinlan slid the shirt back off Murray's shoulders and traced the scar on his chest with one blunt fingertip. This was a surgical scar, no longer resembling the wound it had been and giving no hint as to what had caused it. The staples were gone, but the marks of them remained, crossing the puckered pink skin in a tidy row. That would get better, the staple prints would go away, but the line of the incision would be with him forever. Suddenly Quinlan wanted to kiss it, run his tongue down the length of it and suck the injured flesh into his mouth. Instead, he rose and moved to sit behind Murray on the bed, letting his hand slide over the narrow shoulder, rubbing his thumb lightly over the round exit wound. Murray shivered as Quinlan kissed his neck, strong fingers already working into the slight muscle of his back and shoulder.

The shiver became a sigh, which turned into a low moan of mingled pain and pleasure. He let his head fall back against Quinlan's chest, rolling his shoulder to flex the sore muscles. The pain began to recede under those warm, gentle hands, and it might have put him to sleep if it wasn't also so arousing.

Murray had been torn all his life between wanting to be a man, with all the macho behavior that label implied, and wanting to be cared for. He knew better than to say so out loud, but this seemed like a perfect compromise. He felt safe in Quinlan's hands, secure that the older man wouldn't let anyone hurt him, and at the same time confident that the lieutenant wouldn't be wasting his time with him if he didn't see Murray as a man. Surely a guy like this wouldn't settle for less.

So he let himself rest in those arms, his pleasure now devoid of pain, as Quinlan massaged his chest, working gently around the hollows of his shoulders and collarbones. For the first time since he was shot, Murray felt real peace and was nearly lulled to sleep by it. Then, after an unknown but entirely too short length of time, Quinlan laid him down on the bed and got up.

"You get some rest, kid," he said shortly. "I'll see you later."

Murray guessed this was as good a time as any to prove he was a man and smiled casually.

"Sure, Ted. Thanks for stopping by." He was buttoning his shirt when he heard the door close and by the time he was settling in to sleep, the other man was long gone. But they would meet again, in better circumstances. Murray was sure of it.


End file.
